Nightmare Revisited
by Merlin71
Summary: A tag to Vengeance in which John remembers why he really hates bugs.  Spoilers for Vengeance as well as Sunday.


**NIGHTMARE REVISTED**

_**John really REALLY hates bugs**_

John left Elizabeth's office feeling tired to the bone. And achy. Which wasn't really a surprise given the fact he'd been tossed around like a rag doll by the bug things that Michael had created. John shuddered at the memory of the bug that had crawled over Teyla's chest, remembering all too well his own close encounter with one of those things. Of it's own volition his hand lifted to rub at the spot on his neck where the creature had attached itself. John had suffered agony like he had never felt before, and had nearly died because of it. And it had all happened in little more than the space of one hour.

Not something he really wanted to think about. He didn't want to think at all, but his mind was chaos. Painful chaos. He kept thinking about the bugs, and almost turning into one, which made him think about Carson and how his friend was no longer with them. John hadn't really let himself miss the Scotsman. Or rather, he hadn't let himself grieve for the loss. He couldn't afford to let himself hurt like that. Here in Atlantis, John had to be on top of his game at all times. Too many lives depended on him, but he felt the burden of the lives he had been unable to protect. Carson being one of them.

To John's surprise, he found himself in front of his quarters. He didn't even remember heading for them, which was a sign of just how out of it he really was. A pounding headache on top of his other hurts and feeling worn out on top of it, was not a good combination. He knew he needed to sleep.

A hot shower eased some of his aches, and John downed a few Tylenol from his private stash. A stash that Carson had refilled just a few days before his death. John grimaced as he slid into bed. He'd plowed through most of the pills in short order, seeming unable to shake the headache that had set up camp in his temples since the day Carson had died.

"Shit!" John hissed, cursing himself. He was never going to get to sleep if he didn't shut his brain off somehow. So he punched his pillow until it felt more comfortable under his aching head, then he closed his eyes and willed himself to go to sleep. He ended up having to bore himself to sleep by dividing numbers by seven.

But he dreamed about the bug sucking his life from him. He felt it's pinchers digging into his skin. Felt the way it clung to him, almost in desperation. A desperation matched in John's need to get it off. He clawed at it, forcing arms that felt numb to lift, and uesless fingers to curl and pull. With a shout he managed to fling it off him and he lay where he was, panting from exertion, body aching, feeling warm blood drip down his neck.

He had to shoot the damn thing. John reached for his gun, never taking his eyes off the bug, so he saw when it began to change, morphing into something bigger. Something bigger. Something...human. Michael.

The Wraith hybrid moved closer, laughing at John as he loomed over him.

John tried to reach his gun but his arm wouldn't move. He tried again but he couldn't move at all, his entire body was paralyzed. He was helpless.

Michael knelt beside him. "It is time, Sheppard," he whispered. "Time for you to become what you really are. One of us."

"No...no..." It hurt to say the words, but John gritted them out. He wasn't like Michael. He wasn't one of them. But even as he made his protests, he felt himself changing. Looking down, John saw his skin turn blue and scaly again. He felt a pulse of power deep inside him. He felt rage and fury and something primal.

"Yes..." Michael breathed, reaching out to him.

John took the hand proffered and rose to his feet. He turned and caught sight of his reflection in a mirror and screamed.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The scream ripped from his throat, jolting him awake, and John found himself sitting up and shaking so hard his teeth were rattling. He felt the cool sweat that slicked his skin, felt the way his heart thudded against his ribcage. He stared at his hands and they were trembling, but pale. Not blue and scaly. Human, he was human.

It took a moment for John to calm down enough to climb out of bed. He staggered to the bathroom and bent over the toilet, puking up bile. It seemed to go on forever and he knew it was a physical reaction to the horror he'd felt. His dream had been only that, a dream. But it had felt entirely too real.

Once his stomach finally stopped rebelling, John made it to the sink and managed to rinse his mouth, brush his teeth, then shuck his sweat-soaked clothes. He stepped into the shower and it took a while for him to warm up and for the shaking to stop. He still felt like crap when he got out and dressed, but at least he was functional crap.

He wanted to go for a run. He knew he couldn't outrun his demons, but he might be able to exhaust himself into passing out and sleeping. If he could sleep he was sure he'd feel better. He hadn't slept well since Carson's death, and John knew that he was losing his functionality because of it. He knew he couldn't keep going like this. He also knew his legs wouldn't cooperate if he tried to run. But maybe he could walk for a bit.

So he stuffed his feet into sneakers and headed out. He walked, sometimes managing to jog a few steps, for nearly two hours. He couldn't rid himself of the aches in his body and the pain that throbbed in his temples. By the time he was heading back towards his room, John felt lightheaded and he realized it was probably from hunger. He hadn't exactly been eating well since Carson had died either.

It gave him a twinge, thinking of how the Scotsman had always been on him about his weight. Even when John had started working out with Ronon, the Satedan taking the training seriously, determined to get John into perfect shape and weight. He'd managed to add twenty pounds of muscle to John's lithe frame, but even that hadn't satisfied Carson. John knew it was because he was always losing pounds here and there. Between not always being able to grab regulars meals, and stress and just other factors of life in the Pegasus galaxy, John hadn't ever been able to keep weight on and he doubted that would ever change. But Carson, bless his soul, hadn't stopped trying. Always watching over John in that Mother hen way that he had. He'd never much liked being fussed over, but John knew he was going miss hearing Carson nag him.

"Sheppard?"

"What?" John snapped, in reaction to being startled, only to realize that it was McKay standing beside him and looking worried.

"Well you don't have to bite my head off!" Rodney snapped back.

Which made John smile. Typical McKay, and that fact was surprisingly comforting. "Sorry," he drawled. "You startled me."

Rodney rolled his eyes at him. "Hadn't noticed. What are you doing zoning out in the corridor? Did you get lost again?"

"I don't get lost," John smoothly replied. "I just get temporarily misplaced some times."

"Riiiight." Rodney eyed him for a moment, looking a bit concerned. "You okay? You looked peaked, or something."

John snorted. "Peaked? Who says that?"

Rodney looked offended, and changed the subject. "I'm heading for the messhall, you coming? They have pancakes this morning."

"Sure." John wasn't hungry, but he was pleased to see that Rodney looked eager to eat. His appetite had been off since Carson had died, only Rodney couldn't afford not to eat. He was definitely a hypochondriac, but Carson had long ago assured John that Rodney was not deathly allergic to citrus so not to worry about what they ate off world. But McKay did have low blood sugar, so John was always on watch for him in that regard. Which meant making sure Rodney ate at regular intervals. To the point where John had everyone on Atlantis, discreetly, attuned to keeping an eye on McKay's food intake and what signs to look for. It was why John always had extra power bars on him during missions, as did Teyla and Ronon. And Ronon was careful never to eat the extras. That's what teamwork was all about.

"Well come on then," Rodney chided, pushing past John to head out. "I don't want to be the last in line."

John chuckled and followed along. Once at the messhall, he listened to Rodney chatter on about something Zelenka had done in the lab, but mostly he tuned Rodney out. In line and faced with the sight and smell of food, John's appetite vanished, so he ended up snagging a plain bagel and a glass of juice.

Rodney noticed. "What about the pancakes?"

"I have a workout scheduled with Teyla later," John replied, only just remembering that himself. Maybe after something to eat and another shower he would feel up to training exercise and maybe it would help distract him from his demons, if only for a little while.

"You might want to reschedule that workout," Rodney countered, as they made their way to the corner table where Teyla and Ronon were sitting.

John frowned at Rodney's comment. "Why's that?"

Rodney turned to face him. "Because you look like crap. I bet I could take you down with a flick of my finger."

"Go for it!" John challenged, feeling suddenly defensive and a bit angry.

"Boys!" Teyla interjected, for they had reached the table. "Please join us," she requested, once she had their attention.

John realized he was getting angry for no reason and forced a smile as he sat down. The smile faded as his body reacted to the change of motion, his muscle screaming at him as forced them to flex and tense as he settled in his chair.

Ronon was watching him, never missing his mouth as he continued to shovel in food. The look in his eye let John know he wasn't getting anything past the Satedan. But, blessedly, Ronon didn't comment. He just kept watching him.

"We still on for today?" John asked Teyla, figuring it would be best if he was the one to suggest a subject matter.

"Do you feel up to it?" Teyla countered, giving him a once over of her own.

John grimaced, wondering if he really looked as bad as Rodney had said. If so then he'd have to make it a point to take better care of himself. He couldn't afford to slack off. So he made himself be honest with Teyla. "I am a little tired," he conceded. "Maybe we should reschedule."

Rodney rolled his eyes at John. "Or maybe you should go see Keller."

"I saw her for my post check up last night," John reminded Rodney.

"You saw Nurse Bowen," Rodney countered, his eyes glued to his plate as he cut his stack of pancakes into bit-sized chunks. "And I heard you charm her into letting you go after a cursory check. Which consisted of her taking your pulse and blood pressure, then you assuring her you were perfectly fine and that all you needed was a good night's sleep. Which, by the way, you obviously didn't get."

John was tempted to remind Rodney that he wasn't looking like fresh cut daisies either, but he knew his anger wouldn't be justified. Rodney was just looking out for him in the way Rodney cared about people. With smart remarks and an I don't care attitude. John had a tendency to do the same thing. "I was too wired to sleep much," he allowed. He sipped at his juice but pushed his bagel aside.

Ronon eyed it, then John. "You need to eat that."

"I'll eat later...mom," John drawled, getting a smirk from the Satedan.

"We could do some stretches to help you relax," Teyla offered. "Then maybe you could sleep. I think it has been a difficult time for all of us." She didn't have to say Carson's name for it to hang in the air between them.

John knew they were all morning the Doc in their own way. He knew they wouldn't begrudge him his own way and means. So he nodded at Teyla. "Sounds good. Let me know when you're ready." He'd go work on his reports until she called him.

But Teyla was standing and grabbing her tray. "I am ready now." She smiled at him, warm and bright, letting him know that she understood.

So John got up and waved a goodbye to Rodney and Ronon. He finished off his juice as they headed for the exit, dropping his glass off in the pan that was set out for that purpose. Teyla disposed of her own things then they made their way into the corridor then over to the closest transport.

"We could stretch in my room," Teyla offered. "It's more private.

"Sounds good," John replied. "He'd worked with her there a few times in the past. Usually after an injury, when Carson wouldn't let him back to his usual workouts. Teyla had saved John's sanity with her stretches and the like, hence why he was willing to do them with her now. And it did tend to relax him. Maybe that was what he needed to be able to sleep. Right now John figured half the reason he ached so much was the fact that his muscle felt coiled and tight with tension. He had no doubt but that that same tension was giving him his never ending headache. Since Tylenol didn't seem to be touching any of it, he didn't have anything to lose by working out with Teyla.

They reached her room and entered quietly. Teyla quickly moved about, lighting candles and setting incense to burn. Then she pointed to a soft rug. "Come sit, John."

He did so, wincing all the way down. He rubbed at his temples as he waited for Teyla to join him.

"Headache?" she asked, her tone heavy with concern.

"Just a little one," John lied, because he didn't want Teyla to worry about him. He knew that she had considered Carson a good friend and that the Scotsman had done much to help her feel welcome in Atlantis. For which John had been grateful. When Teyla had first arrived, too many of the expedition had been suspicious of her. Unwilling to give their trust to her. John knew all too well how that felt, and he had supported her, defending her presence. But it had still been a hard time for them all.

Teyla was watching him through a narrowed gaze, obviously not liking what she saw. "We will do an easy set of stretching and some meditating exercises," she declared, and her tone brooked no argument.

John didn't give her any. Teyla was a calming presence and just being with her was helping him to relax a bit. Enough so that he willingly followed her instructions, stretching the kinks out of his body slowly, easing some of the aches. Not all though, because stretching could not alleviate the bruising he had picked up while being tossed around by the mutant bug creatures. Still, he could feel his tension fade a bit and he was able to close his eyes and listen to Teyla's voice, letting it lull him further.

But in the space of a heartbeat, he lost his focus and everything changed.

Flashes of memory bombarded John, unbidden. Being stuck in the jumper with the bug on his neck, feeling the pain ravage his body, even as he lost control, everything turning numb. Then a flash of himself turning blue and scaly, the memory of pressing Elizabeth against the wall and nearly choking her, again losing control and feeling helpless, trapped in a body that no longer felt his own. Then facing an army of mutant bugs, human-sized but with the strength of a Terminator. He had almost become one of them. Sub-human. A freak.

"John!"

Teyla shouting his name jerked him out of the memories and into the present, where he found himself crumpled on the floor with Teyla kneeling beside him looking scared to death.

Pushing himself upright, John tried not to notice how his body was trembling. He forced a smile. "Sorry about that, guess I zoned out a bit."

"You were unresponsive for a moment, then you collapsed." Teyla was on her feet and reaching for her radio.

"Don't!" John begged, because he really did not want to find himself in the infirmary. It held too many memories right now. Painful memories that he wasn't ready to deal with. "I'm fine, I'm just tired. Really, Teyla...I'm fine."

She shook her head but turned away from the head piece. "You are not fine, John," she said flatly. "None of us are fine right now."

He nodded, wincing as pain stabbed through his temples. He rubbed them then whispered, "But we're going to be okay. We'll get through this like we get through everything else." They had both lost so many people, so many friends. John knew that Teyla was a strong woman, but he knew she needed some time to grieve. He would give it to her. Rising slowly to his feet, he moved to her side and patted her shoulder. "I'm gonna go take a nap."

"I'll walk you to your room," Teyla offered, even though his quarters were just down the hall from hers.

"I can make it on my own," John assured her, keeping his tone light, even though he was a bit pissed at the fact she felt he needed help. He hated feeling weak and tired and not up to par. Hated having to rely on someone else's strength to get him through. There had been times when he'd had no choice but to accept help, but this was not one of those times. He just needed some sleep, then everything would be easier to deal with.

Teyla walked him to the door, but allowed him to pass through without her. "I will check on you later," she promised.

John didn't protest. When Teyla made up her mind to do something, she was going to do it, so he let it go. "Talk to you later," he said, then he turned and made his way down the hall. He took another shower, got into fresh sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt and climbed into bed. But he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. His body ached, his head hurt and his mind refused to shut down.

Shoving back the covers, he pushed his feet into sneakers, grabbed an oversized sweat-shirt from the dresser and headed out. Feeling numb, John started walking. He walked to the balcony farthest out on the east end of Atlantis. It took three hours to get there, and it wasn't until he had arrived that he realized he didn't bring his radio. Hopefully Teyla would tell anyone who asked that he was sleeping. He'd just sit in the sun for a while then head back. He still felt achy and his head still throbbed, but he was feeling less anxious. By the time he walked back, using transporters to cut the time down to less than an hour, he figured he'd be able to sleep without dreaming due to sheer exhaustion.

The sun felt warm, although the breeze off the water was a bit chilly, still it felt good to be out in the open. John sat down by the railing, letting his feet dangle, and closed his eyes as he listened to the wind and the water. It soothed him enough that he pushed himself into the corner and stretched out. A short snooze in the sun couldn't hurt.

He felt warmer off to the side, where the breeze didn't reach him, so he stripped out of the sweatshirt and used it as a pillow. A heartbeat later he was asleep.

Only to wake up shuddering. He was freezing. And with good reason. It was raining and it was nearly dark and it was a cold rain and John realized he was soaked to the skin. He got up, stumbling inside, and would have collapsed had strong arms not grabbed him. Strong and familiar arms. John looked up to see Ronon's concerned face as he steadied him. "W-who...s-sent you?" John stuttered. He didn't object when Ronon wrapped an arm around him and headed them towards the nearest transport.

"Weir," the Satedan replied. "Teyla went to check on you and you weren't in your room. When you didn't answer your radio she contacted McKay who found you on the LDS."

"L..LSD," John corrected, shaking so hard that his teeth clicked together painfully.

Ronon almost lifted him into the transporter, then he pulled John into a bearhug.

John knew Ronon was trying to warm him, so he didn't protest. The big guy radiated heat and John soaked it up like a sponge. Only it wasn't nearly enough to take away the chill.

"You're in trouble," Ronon rumbled, as they stepped out of the transporter, walked a short way and stepped into another.

John wasn't familiar with this transporter, so he was a bit surprised when they stepped out and Teyla and Keller and Rodney were all standing there. Teyla had a blanket she wrapped it around John. Keller had a wheel chair and nodded to Ronon. John found himself deposited in the chair and then he was being wheeled into another transporter and a moment later they were in the infirmary. No one said much of anything, but he could feel the tension crackling around him. Yep, he was in trouble.

He kind of lost track of time after that thought, though. All he could focus on was how cold he was. Suddenly Keller was looming over him and taking vitals, then he was in the shower with Ronon and suddenly he was under blessedly warm water. He didn't care that Ronon was with him, he was just happy to be warm. Then he was herded out and dried off and dressed in heavy sweats. He vaguely remembered insisting he had to pee, then he was curled up in a bed with about six blankets tucked under him. There was a pinch in the back of his hand and Keller's voice telling him to rest.

John wanted to protest that that was Carson's line, but darkness swirled around him and dragged him into it's warm depths.

OoO

The lights were low in the infirmary when John woke up. He finally felt warm, his headache was reduced to a dull throb and he was dying of thirst.

Keller appeared before him, bearing a water glass, almost as if he had conjured her up. "How are you feeling, Colonel?" she asked, as she handed off the glass.

John downed the contents before replying. "A bit hungry. Messhall still open?" He actually was feeling hungry and wouldn't be adverse to a sandwich or some soup.

"I'll send for something," Keller said, sounding pleased. "But before you even ask, you're not leaving here tonight. We'll negotiate about your release twenty-four hours from now. Give or take a few hours." Her tone wasn't sharp, like she was giving him an order the way Carson used to do. Nor was it light, as if she were teasing him a bit. It was simply matter of fact.

"At least you're willing to negotiate," John shot back, smiling at the doctor, though it felt a bit strained. He liked her well enough, and she knew her stuff, but it felt strange not waking up to Carson hovering over him.

Keller smiled back with less effort. "Don't get too excited," she warned. "You might not like my terms."

John couldn't argue with that. He shifted a bit, checking out his aches and pains. Minimal but still there, as was the dratted IV. "You gonna read me the riot act for falling asleep outside?"

"Do you want me too?" Keller looked amused as she asked.

"Nope." John wasn't going to give her any ammunition to use against him if he could help it. "Just for the record, I didn't mean to fall asleep. I took a walk, headed outside for some fresh and and dozed off for longer than I intended. I woke up when it started raining. I was just tired."

Keller checked his IV and glanced at his chart before replying. "A lot of people haven't been sleeping well of late. I can give you something to help with that."

John's first instinct was to refuse, but then he realized how stupid that would be. He needed to sleep so he could function, so he was willing to consider it. "Might not be a bad idea. I'll let you know when you let me out of here."

"Deal." She moved to stand beside his bed, hands clasped together in front of her and looking a bit nervous. "Since we're being straight with each other, Colonel...I feel I should tell you that you were restless in your sleep. You...um...you mumbled some things."

"What kind of things?" John was shocked to learn that he had been talking in his sleep. He hated the thought of revealing too much about his demons. They weren't something he shared with anyone, and he certainly wasn't interested in sharing them with some woman he barely knew.

Clearing her throat, Keller blurted it out. "You were mumbling about bugs and Michael and stuff like that."

John shouldn't have been surprised to hear that, since those thoughts had been haunting him the past few days, but he was surprised and he didn't know what to say.

"I've read your medical file, Colonel," Keller continued, before he could find anything to say. "I know about the Iratus bug incident, and about the retrovirus and I know from your report to Elizabeth how you and your team confronted Michael and about the mutant bug people he's created." She paused and shuddered. "It's like something out of a horror movie. All of it."

"Welcome to my life," John muttered.

Keller winced and looked decidedly uncomfortable. But she plugged ahead anyway. "I don't need to be a psychiatrist to know that all those events are going to affect you, Colonel. I'm sure you already know that and I'm sure Dr. Beckett has had discussions about that with you."

It was John's turn to wince. "It's in his notes about me, isn't it?" She made a funny face and looked away, letting John know he was right. He sighed a bit. "Guess you know then that I'm not going to talk to Heightmeyer about it. I'm not much for talking about my feelings."

"I get that," Keller replied, looking almost relieved. "And I respect that. I think that if you ever thought that you were unable to fullfill your duties and protect the people of Atlantis, then you'd do something about it. Whatever that might be." Her hints were so broad, and accompanied by hand gestures and facial expressions, that it was impossible not to get what she meant.

"I would never let myself become a liability to Atlantis and its people," John conceded. "I would do what I had to do." He wasn't entirely sure that wouldn't include heading back to Earth, but he was pretty positive he would talk to someone if he got too messed up to clear his own head. It shook John a bit to realize that he might be scarily close to that point right now.

Keller was suddenly reaching out, lightly squeezing John's shoulder, somehow managing to avoid the aching bruises that mottled his skin. "Let yourself grieve, Colonel," she whispered. "I miss him too." With that she started to turn away. "I'll see what I can do about getting you some soup. Meanwhile, your team would like to visit for a bit." She paused and smiled back over her shoulder. "I called them when I saw you wake up."

John realized that Dr. Keller was very sneaky and that he'd have to keep an eye on her, but he was smiling as he nodded at her. A moment later she was gone and Rodney came striding forward, with Teyla and Ronon in tow. "Hey," John offered in greeting.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Rodney blurted out, looking disgruntled. As if John had fallen asleep in the rain in order to spite him or something.

"Probably a lot of things," John conceded, feeling a grin tugging at his mouth.

Rodney glared at him, then grabbed a chair and hauled it over to his bedside. He plopped into it, opened the laptop that had been tucked under his arm and started typing.

Teyla moved to the other side of the bed, reaching for John's shoulders and leaning in until their foreheads touched.

John shifted a bit, to make it easier for her. He was grateful for the comfort she offered, and when they parted he couldn't help but stare at her chest, remembering how the Iratus bug had come so close to biting her. He could feel Teyla watching him and when he met her eyes he could see understanding there. She knew his fears and understood them. Maybe that would be enough to help keep them at bay.

Ronon had moved to the foot of the bed. He stared at John a long moment, then asked, "You okay?"

"Yep," John replied, letting his gaze move over them all. He caught the way Rodney shifted in his chair and shot glances over his shoulder. John knew he was looking for some glimpse of Carson and his heart felt heavy for a moment. But a burden shared made for a lighter load, and John knew that his team were strong enough to carry this burden and be stronger because of it. And to be strong enough for each other, in times when one of them needed to be carried. And wow, he was being all kinds of philosophical and it was scaring him a bit. He searched for a distraction.

Teyla was smoothing John's covers, fussing a bit in the way Carson used to do. John caught her eye and her nod, and she understood his worry for Rodney and shared it. Which eased his worry a bit. Rodney would be watched over, even if he couldn't do it himself.

Ronon smacked John on the leg, drawing his attention. "You getting out of here anytime soon?" he queried.

"Hope so," John replied.

"Good," Ronon said, grinning. "Got a new move I want to show you. Might come in handy next time you have to go hand to hand with a bug thing."

John winced, but he knew Ronon was offering something he would find useful. Michael was still out there, somewhere, still creating his creatures. They would search for him and try to stop him. But not today.

Rodney stopped typing. "Want to play chess later?" he asked, looking hopeful.

"I think I'm up to kicking your ass again," John allowed, grinning, because he wiped the board with McKay every time they played. And Rodney knew it. So he knew his friend was trying to help distract him and he appreciated it.

"In your dreams, Colonel!" Rodney snapped back, but there was no real bite to it.

John thought about his dreams and wondered when they'd become just that, instead of nightmares. He continued to ponder that a bit while eating the soup Keller brought. And he carried the thought into slumber a few minutes later when he dozed off in the middle of Rodney's argument with Ronon. Something to do with Vanilla pudding.

John let the words wash over him as he drifted off into warm darkness.

A darkness without dreams.

**THE END**


End file.
